<nc-section data-title="The Stern Welcome" data-color="red"> I pulled Thunder to a halt just outside the stables, the gravel crunching loudly under his hooves. Before I could even dismount, a heavy armored gauntlet struck the horse's neck, not hard, but firm enough to get our attention. I looked up to see Sir Roland standing there, his face partially obscured by a jagged helmet scar. He didn't smile. "You're late, boy," he barked, his voice like grinding stones. "The sun sets, and so does my patience. Get that beast stabled and report to the courtyard. We don't coddle latecomers here." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Mentor's Approach" data-color="green"> I guided Thunder toward the open stable doors, taking a moment to pat his sweat-slicked neck. A man in gleaming, albeit well-worn, armor stepped out from the shadows, a bucket of oats in his hand. It was Sir Roland. He didn't look like the terrifying warriors from the stories; he looked tired but kind. "Easy now," he said, his voice calm and steady as he approached. "You've had a long ride, Frederick. Give the horse a rubdown and take your time. There's ale inside for you when you're done. We start fresh in the morning." </nc-section> <nc-section data-title="The Silent Encounter" data-color="blue"> The stables loomed ahead, dark and silent against the purple sky. As I slowed Thunder to a walk, I noticed Sir Roland leaning against the wooden gateframe. He was staring up at the first stars appearing in the twilight, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak as I drew near, merely glancing sideways at the stallion and me. "He has a good gait," Roland noted quietly, almost to himself. He pushed off the gate and gestured toward an empty stall. "Put him there. The castle wakes early, Frederick. Best you find your sleep while you can." </nc-section>